This is what mending is
by Stonecreek
Summary: "The rain washes over me, but I do not feel clean.  I just feel numb."  Ulrich, Yumi, and the aftermath of the aftermath.


**A.N. - **I've had this sitting on my computer for about three months now. It hasn't been beta'ed, or even fact-checked too much. I just felt like writing angst. As for warnings, a bit of language and slight naughtiness. And angst. And, a disclaimer: I do not own Code Lyoko, nor profit from this work in any way.

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**This is what mending is**

As I'm climbing the ladder to get the hell out of the sewers, I notice the moisture on the wall is not just from the place I'm in. Water is streaming steadily down from the edges of the manhole cover in the dimness above. I grit my teeth, bow my head, and continue on, shoving the worn metal aside as I reach the surface.

The rain washes over me, but I do not feel clean. I just feel numb. Cold droplets pelt me as I walk slowly back to the dorm. The grass squelches underfoot, and I feel the seep of liquid into my trainers. Still, I don't pick up my pace.

I don't want to go back – not to the factory, or my room. At either location, there'll be people waiting. Jeremie and Aelita will be hunched over the supercomputer, frantically trying to reverse what's been done. I let them be, to struggle against the futility of their endeavor. I doubt they heard the elevator doors slide shut as I made my escape.

Odd will still be up if I choose to come in and crash for the night, but I don't think I could stand to see him trying to humor his way through this like it was just another mission aftermath. This is no time to be smiling, but it's the best defense mechanism for grief he knows. I don't want to be there to watch as that inevitably fails, and the first tears start to fall.

That leaves either wandering like the lost soul I feel like right now, or trekking to Yumi's house at an improper hour and facing the wrath of her parents. I stare up at the weeping sky and decide I've had enough of drowning my sorrows. I'm no turkey; I won't choke on the rain, no matter how appealing that sounds right now.

I shift direction, exiting the green of the park area and making my way through sparsely lighted suburban streets. As I walk the blocks, part of me wonders why I'm so bent out of shape over this. I was never much a fan of his, but the compassionate side of me can't help but feel torn up about what went down this evening. If I'm feeling this bad, I know Yumi is going to be a wreck when I get there.

Her house looms up on the right, lights off for the evening. Knocking on the door no longer seems an appealing option. The tree in the front yard proves tricky to climb in the pouring rain, and it takes me a good five minutes to navigate my way to the limb that abuts Yumi's bedroom window. I straddle the large branch, catching my breath and collecting my thoughts. Gently, I tap the window.

There is no response. Does she not want to see me? I tap again, in quicker, harder bursts, with no sign of being heard. Then rational thought settles in, and I realize the rain is muffling my attempts to be heard. I call out her name, and a disheveled head of hair appears behind the glass, darkly looking out at me, yet not seeing me. The window opens up hesitantly, as if the person behind is unsure of what they'll find. I'm a bit confused; as far as I know, I'm the only one that has the privilege of dropping by at all hours unannounced without severe repercussions.

Yumi shakes her head as if to clear it, to assure herself that she's actually seeing me. For the first time, I wonder if she's seeing him, instead, transposed over my features. She wordlessly gestures for me to come in. The quirked lip as she turns back in is all she'll allow of enjoyment of my drowned rat look. I follow her, removing my waterlogged shoes and leaving them sit on the ledge before clambering in.

The room's lights are all off, and the bed's covers are rumpled. I turn to ask her if I'd woken her, but she forestalls my question. A finger to the lips will do wonders for that. I notice that she's not in her normal sleepwear; the clothes she wore home from the factory appear dry. She probably just flopped down the moment she got home and tried to burrow her way to some sense of peace. I stand, dripping on her carpeting, awaiting whatever she has in store.

I do not expect her to grasp the bottom of her shirt and pull it upward. I feel my face flush and eyes widen before I can bring myself to turn around and give her some privacy. I hear clothes rustling for a minute, then all is still. I resolutely stand my ground, 180 degrees removed from a view of Yumi. I made to speak again, but again am non-verbally interrupted.

I clam up as I feel her breath, hot against the back of my neck. Her hands come to rest on my shoulders, and I can feel the heat of her body being so close to my shivering one. Yumi's fingers grab at my shirt and work it off my torso. I go slack and let the garment be removed. The hands move lower, reaching for the belt encircling my waist, and I no longer feel the chill of being soaked through. My pants she hurries through, as if now embarrassment is overcoming her up-till-now assuredness.

Finished with her task, she loosely grabs my wrist and tugs me over to her bed. My eyes hold a lot of questions, as my lips are apparently not permitted to ask any. Her eyes stare evenly back at mine, their normal glow slightly overcast with a deep weariness. She inclines her head down, inviting me to take up residence in her layers of protection - protection which failed tonight to keep the evil out. I settle down and find a cozy spot on one side, and feel the blankets being pulled up around my shoulders. The covers shift, and a weight settles in beside me.

We lay there, next to each other but not touching. Slowly, the warmth of our two bodies under the mound of covers brings some feeling back into my extremities. For a long time, all the sound I hear is the thrum of the rain on the roof, the intake of breath, and the staccato rhythm of two hearts that'd been pushed too far tonight. I want to reach over and assure here I am here, but I fear she'd recoil. Her trust has already been abused once today.

Yumi's breath hitches behind me, and before I can turn to see what's wrong, her arms are around me. Her fingers dig into my back, and her tears dampen my shoulder. I turn to face her and, for the first time tonight, she puts up no resistance. I trace kisses along her brow, her cheek, her lips. Sobs shake her curled-up frame. She's clinging to me yet trying to retreat into herself for safety.

I take her hands from my back and place them over my heart. I let her feel the life pulsing through me, the way the beats speed up as her hands still and her eyes widen. The tears subside, and she looks up at me as if she's about to say something. This time I place the finger upon her lips. I roll back over, and she scoots in right behind me, ensnaring me with her arms once again. We settle in for the night, to weather the storm.

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**A.N. –** In case this isn't clear, this fic is Ulrich POV, and takes places directly after the Season 3 finale "Final Round."


End file.
